Happy Groundhog Day! ( I have nothing better to title this)

February 2, 2017 at 1:40 am (Uncategorized)

Someone once pointed out that I only seem to write when I’m sad;  when I’m doing well I don’t really produce any blogs/journals/poetry.  I didn’t really think that was true until I looked back on old writings and saw that…yeah, they’re all filled with pain, worry, and melancholy.
I’m realizing that I have a harder time writing about how I’m feeling when the feelings are not shitty.  In fact, I have no desire to write much at all.  I’ve thought about going back and editing old poems, maybe make them sound not so…over-dramatic.  A few have potential to be something good.  Many others could be used as blackmail against me they’re so bad.
I have written a bit in the last year or so, but it’s nothing I want to share publicly;  my therapist wants me to feel my feelings (what a ridiculous idea) and not just set them aside.  One way of doing this is writing it out and the other is to actually cry when I feel like crying.  Since the urge to cry always seems to come upon me at inopportune moments, I usually end up writing.  I kind of wish I hadn’t because now I’m feeling more about things I thought I was over and discovering moments in life that I have never actually dealt with. Wee.
But for the most part, I’m doing well.  I still have crappy things going on – money is a problem as always, my maternal family is still treating me like a pariah, my number one nemesis is, as always, my own mind and heart- but my life is…stable.  I have a job I love.  I go home every night to someone who cherishes me.  I live with the most adorable bunny in the world.  I’m not actually freaked by the fact that I’m moving to another state in a few months.  And, I’ve found that when I’m happy I actually create things, which is what I do instead of write.  I draw intricate patterns and come up with ideas that I can actually see becoming a project instead of remaining just an idea rolling around in my head.  I connect jump rings in patterns that sometimes hurt my brain to create chainmail jewelry; I’ve even sold some of it. I do things.
The only thing that mars everything is how the one person who read this blog still hates me .  I assume he does (which leads me to ask myself:  why am I even writing this?  I KNOW no one will read this).  I don’t know.  All I know is that I continue to have bad dreams where he expresses how much he loathes me and wants me to just die already.   I don’t know how to deal with this. Nobody who really knew me before the age of 18 is in my life anymore and it makes me feel abandoned for reasons I’m unsure of.
Life is just…very strange at times.  I feel old.  Working with kids who never even lived in the 20th century does not help with that feeling.

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